Drifting in and out
by ibuberu
Summary: Her head throbs and the last memory she has of him is a terse mouth and shifting eyes. — SilverJasmine.


**World** – Manga  
**Characters** – Silver, Jasmine, Gold  
**Pairings** – Silver/Jasmine (Incidentalshipping)  
**Genres** – General, Romance  
**Note(s)** – _(Request #6)_ Based heavily off the events in the manga.  
**Disclaimer** – Pokéspe isn't owned by me.

* * *

**Drifting in and out.  
-**

The earth rumbles angrily and the pavement below her feet cracks in almost immediate retaliation, creating various clefts of monstrous proportions in the ground. Her legs give way and she falls onto the hard concrete, her knees knocking and her arms shaking as she struggles to make her way to the higher floors of the tower. The Ampharos beside her is hectic and panicky, its tail blaring and blinking as it grips tightly onto her elbow and guides her up the winding and wobbling staircases. She musters up a grin to calm the Pokémon, only for it to disappear completely from her countenance, as a portion of the ceiling breaks away from its wooden supporting pole.

Her eyes widen, and everything promptly snaps apart, yielding to darkness.

* * *

Periodically following the startling events, her faltering consciousness comes in fleeting flashes, with only faint sounds and light touches and barely a discernable sight from eyes that refuse to open fully. She hears Amphy growling and sputtering with a distraught voice, and senses the heavy weight currently suffocating her shoulders shifting just slightly. But to no avail, the crushing pillar does not budge enough, and so she just concentrates on breathing at a moderate pace. The Ampharos cries out, and she notices that there is no echo to its sorrowing call – the walls of the tower must have been destroyed. Her lips are chaffing dry and her arms ache terribly so.

Someone must be able to see them, right?

Then, nothing again.

* * *

When she is barely awake once more, she thinks she is hallucinating when she hears the fluttering of feathers and the high-pitched caw of an avian. But then, Amphy's warmth slips away from her side, and instead, the approaching footsteps of a lumbering Pokémon take the Ampharos' place. There is a sound of sharp claws digging into weakening wood and the lifting of debris off her weakened body. Amphy rejoices from one wall of the room, on the other, a cold hand plants itself onto her limp arm and pulls her up. She tries to stand and thank him profusely. Then, a splitting pain attacks her side, and she becomes incapable of doing anything coherent. The female mentally berates herself for her weakness as she crumbles into the arms of the saviour.

She cracks open her eyes and meets with the silver-grey gaze of the boy, and glimpses the redness of his hair and the concern in his frown before being hefted into his arms. She strains and lifts a hand to brush his cheek in unworded gratitude, only to feel his fingers stiffen around her back and legs. The beating of his heart and the strength of his arms does well and good in causing her to feel protected. She relaxes, Amphy cooing softly into her ear and the boy watching carefully, responsibly over her.

"Th… thank you." She finds it sad that she can't smile and laugh and hold his hand.

"You shouldn't be talking," he advises her nonchalantly, his eyes scrutinizing her body. Is he checking for open wounds?

She heeds his words and bites her lower lip as she is held in his arms. If not suffering from the unlikely sensation of a thorn impaling her kidney, she would be enjoying the moment in all its odd awkward comfort. Her heart flutters in her chest as he addresses her with his unfeeling eyes, and she thinks she already has his personality and quirks down pat. He's a quiet boy, with his heart in the right place. And is the owner of eyes that reflect so much with little words. She makes out dark emotions like pain, uncertainty and worry that is unbecoming on a boy of his age, and wonders if she's just affected by a bad concussion.

He catches her staring and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Her head throbs and the last memory she has of him is a terse mouth and shifting eyes.

* * *

Her mind jolts alive, her eyes flying open as she quickly circumvents her surroundings from under the covers of a white bed. A child, not a redhead, is hovering over her bed, a yellow cue in his hand. He breathes a sigh of relief and grins boyishly as she decides to settle her gaze onto him. The smell of ethanol and disinfectant is thick in the air of the room, reminding her disappointingly little of the fresh metallic scent of the boy with the silver eyes.

"You're finally awake! Good, now I can go without feeling guilty!" the black-haired boy explains, a large smile adorning his youthful face.

"Unless, of course, you'd like to exchange numbers?" he interrupts her with a flirtatious wink and a would-be sultry voice.

She stares blankly at him in response, not sure what to say. He's flattering her, but she doesn't think she deserves such treatment. To her left, an Ampharos is curled in one corner of the room, an unhappy expression on its sleeping face - has its worry managed to plague its dream as well? Her head is still mildly stinging with short bouts of pain, but otherwise, her mind is clear. She stares down at her lap and tries to remember what the boy was wearing and how he looked like – she only knows of stunning eyes and red hair. The rest is a perpetual patch of white.

"Um…" Perhaps the raven-haired male can help her.

"Yes?" The boy stops playing with his goggles and offers her his undivided attention.

"Could you tell me his name?" she asks almost impolitely.

"Whose?" He frowns.

"I – I don't think you were the one who saved me…" she drifts off, unable to continue.

"I did! Honest! There was this mudslide and everything! That jerk was the one that got you into trouble!" the boy shouts out an indignant response.

"D-Did he have red hair?" She tunes out the irrelevant information, clutching the sheets of her bed.

"You mean Silver? Yeah, he does, the jerk," the boy hisses with a sulk.

She finally smiles, then nods, and silently disagrees with the black-haired boy's words. And when the child who introduces himself boldly as Gold decides to depart from her hospital room, she traces a name repeatedly on the pale palm of one hand with her index finger, and wonders what kind of repayment will be worthy enough.

* * *

**end.**


End file.
